Is Our Past Our Future?
by IBelieveinSherlockandJohn
Summary: John saved Sherlock when he was younger, but 22 years later can he figure out where he remembers this man from!


**Chapter One**

Sherlock face planted the floor screaming.

"Mycroft! Get off me!" Kicking violently at his older brother who was now dragging him down the corridor.

"oh Sherly, be quiet! We are just having some fun!" Mycroft laughed. Sherlock struggled free one foot and used it to kick Mycroft in the nose which immediately started to bleed. Mycroft took one look at the blood and started crying.

"MUM! Sherlock hurt me again!" he screamed as he ran down the stairs. Sherlock froze. He knew what was coming. Before anything could happen he ran as fast as he could into his bedroom locking the door behind him. Breathing fast he clambered up to the top of his cupboard where no one could reach him. He was safe for now, but he could hear his father ascending the stairs, whip in hand ready to beat him raw. Mycroft was the favourite. Always had been, always would be. After about 15 minutes of his father trying to find Sherlock in his room he had given up. Sherlock was huddled in a ball, he knew, as soon as he left that room he would get double the whipping, but for now, he felt as though he was safe from harm.

He had fallen asleep after the ordeal. By the time he woke up it was half past seven and he was starving. He grabbed a packet of crisps from his secret stash and cautiously looked out of his hidey hole. Climbing down and looking out of his window. He gazed for a moment at the worlds beauty, the sun setting behind the mountains casting a vivid pink and red colouring across the sky. It almost looked like the world was on fire.

Then something else caught his eye. A boy, about eighteen, scruffy blondish hair, rugged clothing, sprinting his way down the path leading to his house. Sherlock watched the boy as he raced around looking for somewhere to hide. Diving into the bushes and cutting himself, looking franticly this way and that and always looking over his shoulder to check that he was alone.

Sherlock was confused. Who or what was he running from, Sherlock opened his window.

"Hey!" he shouted out "You need somewhere to hide?" He asked the boy. The boy was stopped, startled at first but then slowly nodded.

"Come on up then." Sherlock said softly pointing to the rose bush that was attached to the wall.

As the boy climbed, Sherlock observed him in greater detail. His hair was curled, like his, but blonde, his hands were those of a poor boys, as were his clothes, but his eyes were deep pools of browny green, they added life to his other wise worn out face even though he was still a young boy.

The boy scrambled into the open window and fell to the floor with a light thud.

"Thanks…" He breathed

"No problem, who were you running from?" Sherlock asked tilting his head

"My… My father, he beats me…" The boy answered sitting up a little and leaning on the wall.

"oh… does yours do it too? I thought I was the only one…" Sherlock sounded surprised. The boy looked at Sherlock with an inquisitive look, then holding out his hand and smiling.

"John Watson, nice to meet you."

"Sherlock Holmes, nice to meet you too." taking John's hand and shaking it, smiling back.

An air of awkwardness swept over them as they stood alone in the room.

"So…" John started "how old are you?" John asked

"Thirteen…" Sherlock answered.

"I see, I'm eighteen." John laughed "You know, I never thought my life would be saved by a thirteen year old… but there you go." John started laughing uncontrollably.

"Why, is it wrong or something?" Sherlock asked puzzled. This just made John laugh more.

"No" He chuckled "Just different… but thank you. Sherlock." John giggled ruffling Sherlock's hair.

A loud banging suddenly started at Sherlock's door.

"SHERLOCK! SHERLOCK! OPEN THIS DOOR NOW!" Screamed the voice. Sherlock stopped. Shaking where he stood. He swallowed.

"That's my brother, Mycroft. He bullies me…" Sherlock whispered. John turned to him.

"Lets show him a thing or two then." John moved towards the door and opened it. Mycroft charged in. Not seeing John who had hidden himself behind the door. Mycroft grabbed Sherlock by the scruff.

"Now, you're going to get it you little knob!" Mycroft sniggered. He went for a punch but John had grabbed his arm and before he could do anything John had landed a punch on Mycroft's nose.

"Get the fuck out of here! And if you dare hurt him again I will find you and hurt you." John growled at Mycroft releasing his arm and letting him scamper out of the door slamming it after him.

Sherlock was a shaking mess on the floor now. Breathing fast and nearly in tears. John squatted down next to him, placing a hand on Sherlock's quivering one and looking into his nearly pure white eyes.

"Its okay Sherlock… He won't be coming back anytime soon. I promise." John took Sherlock's shaking body into his arms. Rubbing his back slowly. "Shh, Sherlock, everything is okay, he's gone now, he's gone…" John closed his eyes and stroked Sherlock's black curls.

All of a sudden John can feel himself being dragged away from the screaming Sherlock, in a split second he is being hauled out of the house and thrown into the bins that sat outside with a woman screaming at him. John doesn't care, he doesn't even notice what she is saying he is too focused on Sherlock's screams and shrieks of pain and horror as his father whips and hurts him.

John is fighting to get back inside to help Sherlock. He slams himself into the door and breaks a finger in the process. Kicking the door down and startling Sherlock's mother who is screaming on the floor of her living room. Mycroft lays in wait at the top of the stairs but John is too strong and powers him over with a couple of punches. Sherlock's father is standing over the bloody mess that is now the weeping Sherlock. John grabs Sherlock's father. John takes a punch to the jaw but throws one back with the fury and pain that he is feeling straight back at him. Jabbing and kicking at Sherlock's father beating him just as he had done to a poor defenceless Sherlock.

Finally Sherlock's father landed on the floor, bloody and beaten.

"And that you bastard," John started wiping his nose with his arm "is why you don't fuck with my best friend." John finished. Squatting next to the blood covered Sherlock he smiled.

"Do you want to get out of here?" John asked softly, Sherlock nodded. John smiled and hauled Sherlock over his shoulder. Turning to his dad,

"Say goodbye to your punch bag. He's coming with me and there is nothing you can do about it." John hissed before walking out of the room and past Mycroft who lay on the floor moaning about his nose that was now completely broken. The wailing mother on the floor had cleaned herself up and was now attempting to stop John leaving with her son.

"I'm sorry, for the mess miss, but I think that the best way for your son to have the best life possible is to come with me." John said softly lowering Sherlock off his shoulder. Sherlock's mother looked from Sherlock to John and back again.

"You, you'll look after him…?" She asked

"Yes, of course, I'll let nothing hurt him, ever." John reassured her.

"How… how long have you known him?" She asked

John laughed "A couple of hours…" He answered truthfully

"Do you love him?" She asked. John looked at Sherlock, his curls, his lightly blue eyes. John smiled and looked back at Sherlock's mother.

"Yes, yes I believe I do. He saved my life I owe it to him to save his." John said softly. Sherlock's mother nodded.

"Be safe." She added as she stepped out of the way to let them pass. Just at that moment Sherlock's father came racing down the stairs all ready to attack John but she stopped him.

As Sherlock and John walked towards the mountains, where the sun had almost set, they felt free. They were together. And even though they had met only about 3 hours ago they felt the

bond between them could never be broken. And that their life's were just about to begin.


End file.
